


Riddles and Kisses

by Moonfreckle (Sunfreckle)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (kinks listed in the notes of chapter 3), Best Friends, Established Friendships for all, Established Jehanparnasse, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Healthy Relationships, Nonbinary Grantaire (he/they), Nonbinary Jehan, Oral Sex, Other, Playful Sex, Porn with Feelings, Smut starts in Chapter 3 if you're impatient, Threesome, Trans Montparnasse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 19:10:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15250092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Moonfreckle
Summary: After some interesting revelations on Jehan's part, Grantaire, Jehan and Montparnasse spend an evening playing riddle games together. How dreadfully Jane Austen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was never intended for posting, but in honour of Rare Pairs week I thought I’d make an exception. I’m not sure if “jepartaire” is the proper name for this ship, but my sister informs me that it sounds like “I’m sharing” (“Je partage”), which is hilarious and perfect~

“Parnasse,” Grantaire says gravely. “In all the years I have known you, you have _never_ offended me this deeply.”

Montparnasse scoffs at his friend’s frowning face and waves his hand dismissively. “All I'm saying is that the dream-inducing peaches are by far the most valuable thing in that whole labyrinth.”

He doesn’t even bother to look apologetic about it. Grantaire and Jehan both stare at him in dismay.

“Why are you dating this heathen again?” Grantaire asks Jehan from his spot on the couch.

“I'm beginning to wonder,” Jehan says, frowning up at Montparnasse. He's lounging in the only arm chair and they are sitting on the floor, leaning against his legs.

“Am I wrong though?” Montparnasse smirks, but Grantaire is pretty sure this is just him covering up the fact that he actually really enjoyed himself watching what he had at first insisted was “just a trippy kids movie”.

“You're insulting one of my favourite films,” Jehan huffs.

“Or you're saying you want to ballroom dance with Bowie,” Grantaire suggests with a snort as he reaches for his coffee. “Either way, Jehan has reason to be offended.”

“Oh no,” Jehan says immediately. “As long as he apologizes for insulting Labyrinth, Parnasse can fantasize about Bowie all he wants.”

“I apologise for insulting Labyrinth,” Montparnasse chimes dutifully and he follows it up with a quick grin. “I was allowed to do what with who now again?”

Jehan laughs and gives his legs a punishing push, making Montparnasse chuckle slightly.

Grantaire honestly isn’t sure if they’ve ever made it through a single movie without some sort of argument. But that’s half the fun, really. Jehan and Grantaire are no better than Montparnasse when it comes to overanalysing and disagreeing with movies. The subjects of the arguments have just shifted a little since he started joining them for movie nights, that’s all.

Montparnasse has been doing that much more often lately. Just like he’s taken to arriving early in the evening instead of late at night. It has taken Grantaire a while to get used to seeing this new side of him. Because the Montparnasse he was used to hanging out with, usually together with Éponine, was not quite the same as the Montparnasse he now frequently finds making coffee in his kitchen in the mornings. Well, a first serious relationship does that to people.

Jehan has probably changed too, but Grantaire must admit he hasn’t noticed it. All the knows is that they have somehow managed to never make him feel like a third wheel in his own home. He’d been worried about that when they moved in together just after Jehan started dating Montparnasse. He needn’t have been.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Grantaire tuts at Montparnasse, who is still making suggestive faces at Jehan. He lifts his mug. “Absolutely unbe— dammit!” He shouldn't try to drink lying down, now he's spilt hot coffee all over the front of his shirt.

“You okay?” Jehan asks, looking up worriedly.

“Klutz,” Montparnasse snickers.

“I'm _fine_ , thank you,” Grantaire says, glaring at Montparnasse. It’s still uncomfortably hot though. Grantaire pulls his shirt over his head and uses it to dry his hand.

Montparnasse, who looked in his direction to smirk at him with his usual brand of indulgent schadenfreude, is now looking at him a little too deliberately.

“Do you mind?” Grantaire says, drawing up an eyebrow. “Jehan's right there, ogle them.”

“There isn't a limited supply of ogles,” Jehan says sweetly, looking appreciatively at Grantaire’s chest as well. “We can take turns.”

“Yeah,” Montparnasse drawls. “Take your jeans off too if you feel like it, nothing either of us haven't admired before.”

“Fuck you,” Grantaire grunts and Jehan giggles. Their giggle is short, however, and cut off by a sudden quizzical expression.

“Wait,” they say, looking up at Montparnasse. “What do you mean ‘ _either_ of us’?”

Montparnasse slants his head in amusement and Grantaire turns his gaze upward to the ceiling. Great. _Wonderful_. Just what he needed. He glances down again to see Jehan looking at him for the answer Montparnasse isn’t giving them and when he doesn’t either, they look back at their boyfriend. By that time Montparnasse’s face is sporting a smirk that makes Grantaire wish this couch had loose pillows, so that he could throw one at his head. Especially since Jehan is by no means slow on the uptake.

“You two _slept_ together?” they gape, eyes wide with sudden understanding.

Montparnasse laughs softly, because of course he thinks this is funny. “I thought you knew,” he says, looking down at Jehan with as much sincerity as his amused expression will allow. He glances at Grantaire, a smirk pulling on the corner of his mouth. “You didn’t tell them?”

“Hey,” Grantaire says indignantly. “ _You’re_ the boyfriend.”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Montparnasse says. He sniffs. “And you two talk about bloody everything.” He looks down at Jehan again. “I assumed he told you.”

“He did not!” Jehan says, just as indignant as Grantaire, and he’s grateful at least that it’s only indignation. Jehan doesn’t look the least bit troubled or hurt by the revelation, which is rather a relief. Still, their dark eyes are fixed on Grantaire rather demandingly. “Why didn’t you tell me? I told Parnasse about us!”

Grantaire has several reasons for his selective silence actually, but one is definitely on the top of the list.

“And when exactly was I supposed to bring that up, hm?” he says, pulling a face. “The first time you came to me gushing about him?” He remembers that lunch date, they had been absolutely _buzzing_ with energy. And so completely intent on dragging information out of him. Not telling them everything had been a very conscious decision.

 Jehan opens their mouth in protest, but Grantaire points an accusatory finger at their face. “You would have _made_ me tell you what it was like,” he says. “Every damn detail.”

Jehan flushes and then giggles. “I probably would have,” they admit.

“Thank you,” Grantaire says heavily and he leans back on the couch, ignoring the poorly repressed snickering from Montparnasse.

“Well,” Jehan says, amusement quivering in their voice. “There’s no need to ask you if it was good.”

Montparnasse makes a smug, equally amused sound and Grantaire groans, slinging one arm over his face. From the corner of his eye he can just see Jehan looking at him with twinkling eyes.

“…I won’t have to ask Parnasse either,” they add meaningfully.

“No you don’t,” Montparnasse hums.

Grantaire rarely blushes visibly and thank fuck for that, because his cheeks are _burning_. “You’re doing this on purpose and you’re evil,” he glares at Jehan.

“I’m sorry,” Jehan laughs, genuinely apologetic now.

“I’m not,” Montparnasse says casually, leaning back into his former lounging position.

Grantaire makes another mildly resentful noise and gets to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Jehan whines.

“To put on a clean shirt,” Grantaire says, ambling towards his room.

“Aww,” the joined lament comes from the living room and Grantaire makes a rude gesture at them behind his back.

When he returns Grantaire is grateful that the subject seems to have moved on from him back to the movie, which is much better. It doesn't stop Montparnasse from shooting him a last teasing grin, but he can deal with that. Grantaire sits back down on the couch, that Jehan has now also curled up on instead of lying on the floor. They lean against him comfortably when he sits down and Grantaire wishes that his brain could switch subjects as easily as his company. Because between Jehan leaning their head back against his arm and Montparnasse lounging draped sideways in his chair with his shirt just a few buttons undone, Grantaire is stuck with some very vivid memories that really aren't helpful right now.

Jehan is currently talking about the merits of masculine looks in make-up.

“Maybe it isn't make-up,” Montparnasse says languidly. “He's the Gobling King isn't he? Maybe he just looks like that.”

“Maybe,” Jehan says dreamily. “But if he doesn’t, one of the goblins would have to fetch it for him…”

Grantaire's mind wanders again, but at least this time he has an acceptable reason.

“What?” Jehan asks, laughing up at him.

“Nothing,” he smirks.  “I was just remembering that neither of you are very good with make-up.”

Jehan looks puzzled and Montparnasse opens his mouth indignantly, but then he catches Grantaire's eye and smirks in understanding. “Oh, that,” he grins. “Well…”

“The Halloween party doesn't count,” Jehan huffs, catching on as well. “I wasn't prepared.”

Grantaire laughs. Montparnasse and Jehan were only just dating at that time and they had taken each other rather by surprise. They had both looked very pretty, of course. Too bad they couldn't keep their hands and mouths off each other. He remembers the guilty faces and the smudged lips and grins at Jehan. “Hey, I don't blame you,” he says and it feels kind of good to be able to joke about this openly now.

He is rewarded with a lovely flustered look from Jehan and suddenly they burst out once again: “I still can't believe you guys!” They point accusingly at Montparnasse. “You had sex with my best friend!”

“I knew him first,” Montparnasse grins, amused and perfectly easy.

“That's no excuse,” Jehan pouts and they do it so comically that Grantaire chuckles as well.

Now Jehan turns their eyes on him instead. “You have to tell me,” they say. “How many times?”

Their indignation is completely feigned, but their curiosity is not. Grantaire represses a grin, his initial embarrassment is over now and Jehan is always so damn cute when they’re in a flurry of strong feelings.

“Tell me!” Jehan insists.

Grantaire laughs, at Jehan and at the memory. “Just the once,” he says.

“Twice,” Montparnasse speaks up and Jehan looks round at him intently and  then back at Grantaire. They quirk a demanding eyebrow.

Grantaire pulls a face at Montparnasse. “One and a half,” he says. He won’t allow it to be any more than that, that would just be needlessly feeding Montparnasse’s ego.

Montparnasse tuts, eyes twinkling, but doesn’t argue.

Jehan sits up straight so they can cross their arms demonstratively. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Maybe I'll tell you later,” Montparnasse teases. “When R isn't around to contradict me.”

The image of Montparnasse whispering the details of that particular evening in Jehan's ear flashes vivid in Grantaire’s mind for a second and he nearly squirms. There’s no real tension to the atmosphere though, only Jehan’s curious energy.

They look at him again. “Was that before me or after?”

“Before,” Grantaire splutters. “ _Way_ before. Before I even met you.” Jehan looks oddly pleased with that.

“Hmm, lifetimes ago,” Montparnasse hums and he really needn’t sound so mockingly dreamy.

“Just so you know, I am still highly insulted,” Jehan informs them both.

Montparnasse grins and lets his leg slide down from the armrest of his fauteuil so he can lean towards Jehan. “Let me apologise then,” he drawls and he reaches out to cup Jehan's face.

Grantaire watches, almost mesmerized, how Montparnasse brings his face close enough to Jehan to almost kiss them. They don’t do this in front of him too often. Grantaire isn’t sure if that’s something they avoid for his comfort or their own, but it has the unintended side effect that he has had very little opportunity to build up immunity against the sight of Montparnasse’s slightly darkened eyes and Jehan’s gently parted lips.

“Sorry Jehan...” Montparnasse murmurs and only then does he press his lips against theirs.

Jehan leans into the kiss and lets out a gratified hum when Montparnasse finally releases them.

Montparnasse leans back into his chair, elegant as ever, and his eyes flit from Jehan's face to Grantaire's. “Well?” he smirks. “It’s your fault too, you know…”

He can't be serious. Grantaire looks into Jehan's face. They pout. Grantaire snorts, rolling his eyes, and leans down. “Sorry Jehan,” he chimes and he gives them a kiss on their cheek.

Jehan makes an appreciative sound, but Montparnasse scoffs: “You call that a kiss?”

Grantaire raises an eyebrow at him, but Montparnasse stares back with challenging eyes. “Go on, apologise properly,” he says and it’s damn near an order.

Grantaire stares at him, glances at Jehan's laughing eyes and flushed cheeks and narrows his eyes. He'll teach Montparnasse not to play him for laughs. “Okay,” he shrugs, and kisses an astonished Jehan full on the mouth.

When he pulls back, Jehan’s face is scarlet and they let out a surprised laugh. Montparnasse looks mildly impressed and that makes it almost worth it, Grantaire thinks. Almost, because he definitely enjoyed that a bit too much.

At least Jehan seems partly under the same confusion, because they flush a little redder still and say:

“I forgive you both.”

“Isn’t mercy a wonderful thing,” Montparnasse drawls amusedly.

Somehow the conversation manages to move on from there and Grantaire is just about capable of shutting down the parts of his brain that are particularly bothering him at that moment. It’s getting late though and by the time that Montparnasse has joined them on the couch and most of their talking has trailed off into drowsy, companionable silences, Grantaire figures it’s time to go to bed. Not that he isn’t comfortable here, with Montparnasse’s arm stretched out on the back of the couch behind him and Jehan sitting in between them leaning against both, but he refuses to fall asleep here with his bed only a few paces away.

Grantaire sits up, stretches his arms above his head for a moment, and lets out a yawn. When he opens his eyes again, Montparnasse is shamelessly studying the way his shirt has been pulled up above his waistband. Grantaire rolls his eyes at him and gets to his feet.

“Well, goodnight,” he hums and he leans forward to give Jehan a kiss on the top of their head.

Jehan makes a happy sound. “Goodnight, R.”

Montparnasse tips his head back a little to look at him and smirks. “Sweet dreams,” he drawls, just a bit too deliberately.

Grantaire treats him to a thoroughly unimpressed look, gives Jehan’s head another affectionate pat and retreats to his room, leaving Jehan and Montparnasse halfway entangled on the couch. He closes his bedroom door behind him with some of the thoughts he put on hold finally catching up to him. This was an…interesting evening. He can still feel Jehan’s lips on his. Just like he can still see the appraising look on Montparnasse’s face as soon as he closes his eyes. Well done, Grantaire, well done. At least he sees the sense of humour in it by now. It’s not like it’s actually a big deal anyway. He has known the both of them for so long now. Clearly Montparnasse thinks all this is highly entertaining and Jehan seems to be fine with it too. And as long as Jehan doesn’t mind, Grantaire doesn’t mind.

Well, he wouldn’t mind if he didn’t have such an overactive imagination. Better reign that in a little.

Even so, he can’t help but grins slightly  in spite of himself. Nothing that involves kissing Jehan Prouvaire can be an actual source of regret.


	2. Chapter 2

Montparnasse is so very good at lazy kisses. Jehan isn’t sure if they’ve ever been kissed by anyone that could kiss so slowly and languidly without ever giving the impression of being distracted or uninterested. They’re snuggled up to him in their not-quite double bed and still trying to make up their mind if they want to sink further into sleepiness or take control of the way Montparnasse is moving his lips against theirs and try for a different kind of kiss… They blink at their boyfriend in the near dark and reach out to brush a lock of dark hair away from his face. He smiles at them, lying comfortably on his side with his head propped up on one elbow. Around his ears his hair has almost grown long enough to start curling again. Jehan likes Montparnasse’s fashionable haircuts, but they also really like his curls. They like curls in general. Like Grantaire’s…

Their mind has _barely_ wandered and Montparnasse is already grinning at them. Jehan’s cheeks burn hot and they pull a face.

“Still thinking about me and R, are you?” Montparnasse smirks.

“I’m just…” Jehan bites their lip and glances up at him. It’s actually startlingly easy to imagine them together. “I should have known,” they grin shyly. “I really should have.”

“I really did think you knew,” Montparnasse says, his voice soft and sincere for a moment.

“That’s okay,” Jehan smiles.

The grin slides back onto his face and they feel a little thrill fluttering through their stomach. Grantaire is right down the hall. They remember the rush of warmth as he pressed his mouth against theirs. It had been so long since he kissed them like that. It had never been a regular thing between them, but it had stopped completely when they met Montparnasse. Jehan hadn’t realised that they had missed it… Ever since he went from best friend to roommate they have been lucky enough to never have the opportunity to start missing _him_. But his kisses…

If they try they can still feel the press of Grantaire’s lips against theirs. But they also remember the way Montparnasse looked at the two of them just after Grantaire pulled away. The way his eyes lingered on Grantaire’s face, the way his mouth quirked just a little. The faint grin around his lips right now is very similar. Too similar. Jehan feels their face grow hot again.

“So tell me,” Montparnasse coaxes, leaning towards them just a little, as if he wants to bask in the warmth glowing on their cheeks. “What exactly are you thinking _about…_?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This smut features: rough kissing, hair pulling, neck biting, teasing, oral sex, mild dom/sub (verbal and physical) even though everyone is clearly verse, praising, voyeuristic/exhibitionist themes, and, or so I was told "everyone being very appreciative of how ridiculously hot everyone else is" ❤︎

“Nope, it’s not just us,” Grantaire says, returning from a talk with their equally frustrated neighbours. “Internet’s down there too.”

That means movie night is cancelled until further notice.

Jehan hums resignedly, but Montparnasse lets out a suffering sigh. Drama queen. Of course it was his choice of movie tonight, in return for watching Labyrinth, so he probably feels he’s entitled to mope now.

“Don’t be like that,” Jehan laughs, petting Montparnasse’s hair fondly.

Grantaire smirks at them and drops his voice to an unsubtle stage-whisper. “Have you forgotten how terribly annoying your beau gets without entertainment?” he asks.

“We can have entertainment,” Jehan says cheerfully. “I’ll sing if you get your guitar, R.”

“Duets after supper,” Montparnasse drawls, stretching out lazily on his end of the couch. “How frightfully Jane Austen.”

“Hey, don’t knock my girl Jane,” Jehan scolds, tugging on the ruffles on his shirt. “And just so you know, if we’re doing Regency entertainment, kissing games are totally on the table.”

“What?” Grantaire laughs and he sits down in the arm chair.

“The English were never as prudish as people portray them,” Jehan grins. “Kisses were very normal prizes or forfeits for games in that time.”

Grantaire shakes his head fondly. Of course Jehan would know that. He grins. They are beaming with history-fact induced excitement.

“What kind of games,” Montparnasse asks and he sounds far too interested all of a sudden. Montparnasse is many things, but subtle he is not. At least not to Grantaire, maybe he’s known him for too long.

Jehan’s eyes twinkle. “Riddle games for instance.” They adore riddles.

Grantaire reaches for his coffee, still mostly untouched. “How does that work then, if you can guess the answer you get a kiss?”

“No, if you _can’t_ guess the answer you owe the riddle giver a kiss,” they explain.

Grantaire raises an eyebrow at them. “Did you just neglect an opportunity to legitimately use the word ‘riddler’, Jehan,” he says gravely. “Because I think you did and I’m _very_ disappointed in you.”

Jehan snorts, but Montparnasse interrupts: “So there’s no prize for guessing correctly?”

“Mm, don’t know,” Jehan says. “The triumph of outsmarting the room, I suppose.”

Montparnasse hums thoughtfully and Grantaire smirks. “Are you trying to make up your mind what would be worse? Losing on purpose or no reward.”

Montparnasse blows out a mocking breath, but Grantaire catches Jehan’s laughing eye and adds deliberately: “Or maybe you wouldn’t have to lose on purpose.”

Because what good is a night without Netflix if he doesn’t get to goad his friend a little.

Montparnasse’s eyes narrow resentfully. “I wasn’t aware talking bullshit equates to being good at riddles.”

Jehan makes a delighted noise. “Does this mean we’re playing?” they beam.

“Why not,” Montparnasse says, expression still rather insulted. “Why doesn’t R go first, hm?”

Grantaire grins. He’s far too used to that dangerous glint in Montparnasse’s eyes to still be impressed by it. “Oh you’re gonna regret that,” he promises.

♥

Somehow they start out going through all Tolkien’s riddles, which means it’s not so much a guessing contest as a competition to see who has the best memory and can quote most eloquently. As far as Grantaire is concerned that particular contest is a tie. Jehan is the first one to give an actual riddle, challenging Montparnasse, and they very happily receive the kiss he has to give them.

Grantaire laughs at the way they hum happily, comfortable as he is surrounded by good company and beloved poetry. He’s still thinking about hobbits if he’s honest.

“I like this game,” Jehan grins, when Montparnasse pulls away from them again. “Now you do one!”

“Fine,” Montparnasse grins, one hand still lingering on Jehan’s knee. He fixes his eyes on Grantaire. “Want to back out?”

“Do your worst,” Grantaire smirks. He wasn’t bluffing earlier. He’s good at riddles.

“ _I can be made and I can be played. I can be cracked and I can be told. What am I?_ ”

Grantaire looks at Montparnasse and Jehan, sitting side by side, both with different kinds of lights playing in their eyes and for a moment he considers faking not knowing the answer. He’s not giving Montparnasse the satisfaction though.

“A joke,” he says, savouring the slightly disappointed curve to Montparnasse’s mouth. “My turn?”

“Your turn,” Jehan grins in agreement.

“Okay.” Grantaire thinks. None of the riddles he knows are as fine as Tolkien’s. Some of the philosophy ones he knows are too depressing. He needs something to match laughing look on Jehan’s face. “Alright,” he smiles. “Jehan…

 _A house with many rooms_  
_With no hammers or nails to build them_  
_But in every room an in habitant_  
_Who tends the treasures there and guards them_.”

Montparnasse frowns and to Grantaire’s delight, so does Jehan. He’s sure they’ll like this one, but he had thought they’d guess it immediately. “It’s something you like,” he grins, leaning back.

“Don’t help!” Jehan protests and Montparnasse gives Grantaire a look that is just a little too amused.

Grantaire doesn’t even care. He’s completely sober, but unlike drunkenness, sobriety is at least partially a choice. He’s choosing to lose himself in all this. Being crowded close together with Jehan and Montparnasse. Riddles and kisses. And the fascinated flickers of frustration on Jehan’s face are a joy to watch.

“I don’t know,” they exclaim finally, looking at him demandingly. “Tell me!”

“A beehive,” Grantaire grins.

Jehan’s brown eyes widen in delight. “ _Bees_ , oh that’s a good one!” They sway forward, towards him. “You _deserve_ a kiss for that one.”

Grantaire laughs and turns his head slightly to offer them his cheek. Jehan makes an affectionate noise, wraps their arms around him and accidentally presses a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Sorry!” they laugh.

“Not complaining,” he grins.

“No, that was clumsy,” Jehan insists, their hands steadying on his shoulders. “Can I give you a proper one?”

Grantaire doesn’t look at Montparnasse, but he is aware of him watching. Jehan doesn’t look either and Grantaire turns his face towards them. It’s not like he’s going to say no. Never. He gives an encouraging nod.

“Good riddle,” Jehan says approvingly and they plant a kiss on his lips.

For a moment Grantaire resists the urge to pull them closer and then he doesn’t. In an impulse he wraps a strong arm around Jehan’s waist and pulls them into his lap. They laugh and squeal and he pulls them close, holding them so they can sit in his lap and face Montparnasse, who is still lounging on the couch.

“Go on,” he grins, giddy contentment bubbling in his chest. “Give one to your boyfriend.”

Montparnasse is trying to look unimpressed, but he has that slightly diffused happiness on his face he always does when Jehan is happy and Grantaire likes him better like this than during all his aesthetic smirking and scowling. He really does.

“Okay, okay,” Jehan laughs, arranging themselves comfortably on Grantaire’s lap. They give Montparnasse a prompting look and recite:

“ _In the garden sat John Brown_  
_In his fine fur dressing-gown_  
_He has no horse or plough in hand_  
_And yet he harrows all the land_.”

“What,” Montparnasse says blankly.

“Come on!” Jehan says happily. “Guess.”

Grantaire doesn’t know the answer to this one either. Unless it’s another— oh, right.

Montparnasse goes through several different frowns, before shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want a hint?” Jehan coaxes.

Montparnasse gets to his feet and bends over, making them tip their head back to look up at him. “Not really,” he grins.

This kiss is longer, far longer, than the last one. Grantaire can hear the gratified little breath Jehan blows out as Montparnasse presses his lips to theirs and maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have Jehan in his lap…

Montparnasse lets himself fall back onto the couch, letting go of Jehan with a gratified grin.

Jehan giggles and gets to their feet, fanning themself for comic effect and mercifully allowing Grantaire to rest his ankle up on his knee. Jehan is still safely laughing at Montparnasse though and now Grantaire chuckles too.

“You didn’t even ask for the answer,” he reminds Montparnasse.

“It’s a mole,” Jehan says happily, going to sit cross-legged on the couch.

“A m— ugh.” Montparnasse makes an annoyed sound and gives a resentful flounce of the head.

“You’re not very good at this, are you?” Grantaire teases.

Montparnasse’s eyes narrow and he ignores Jehan’s fond laugh in favour of glaring at Grantaire.

“You give me a riddle I can’t solve that _doesn’t_ desperately try to rhyme and I’ll give you a proper kiss,” he says scornfully.

Jehan sees fit to let out a teasing whistle at that.

“Touchy,” Grantaire tuts at him, but he’s searching his memory regardless, both to catch Montparnasse out on hasty threats and to show off a little. He remembers one Joly once told him and smiles. “Yeah alright. No rhyming here:

_I have no feet in the morning_  
_I have four feet in the afternoon_  
_And if you’d kiss me tenderly_  
_Two feet I’ll have in the evening_  
_What am I?”_

He sees the delight on Jehan’s face immediately. They know the answer, but Montparnasse is once again frowning.

“That’s the sphynx’ riddle,” he says.

“Except it’s not,” Grantaire grins.

Montparnasse really is trying, Grantaire can tell, but eventually he makes a disgusted noise and throws up his hands. “What is it,” he demands.

Grantaire does nothing to keep the triumph out of his voice. “Jehan?” he asks amusedly.

“It’s a frog,” Jehan beams. “A frog prince! Because when you kiss them they become human and have two legs again!”

Montparnasse wrinkles his nose in disagreement. “What about the no legs in the morning?”

“Tadpoles,” Grantaire grins.

Montparnasse’s face goes through a serous of beautiful variations of frustration, before settling on annoyed appreciation. “What a load of bullshit,” he gripes. “Come here.”

He reaches out towards Grantaire with sudden impatience and as soon as Grantaire leans within his reach, Montparnasse grabs him by the back of his neck and pulls him in, pressing his mouth firmly against his.

Grantaire hasn’t exactly forgotten how Montparnasse kisses, but he’s still taken by surprise. Montparnasse takes his slightly parted lips as an invitation and deepens the kiss with a hungry sort of thoroughness that leaves no room for anything else in Grantaire’s mind. His hands lay uselessly in his lap, but doesn’t dare grab at Montparnasse. He leaves everything up to him, following his lead instead of struggling for control and in response Montparnasse tips Grantaire’s head to the side a little further, nipping at his bottom lip.

Eventually he pulls back slowly, his breathing only very slightly quickened, and Grantaire feels dizzy when he opens his eyes. Montparnasse sits back with an expression that makes it seem like that was at least worth it having to put up with stupid riddles. Grantaire swallows. Montparnasse looks extremely pleased with himself. Even more so when he glances at Jehan, whose eyes are wide and _very_ appreciative.

“That was really pretty,” they breathe and the slight edge to their voice makes something hot twist in Grantaire’s insides. If he wasn’t hard before, he is now.

Montparnasse grins and tuts slightly, his eyes dancing with light as they rest on Jehan. “Oh dear, we seem to have uncovered a fantasy…”

Jehan flushes, but they don’t look away. They’re looking nearly defiant, blushing like a rose and trying to own it.

Grantaire meanwhile tries very hard to push through the tangle of thoughts and feelings wrapping around him. It’s not like stuff like this has never crossed his mind, especially since the whole Labyrinth conversation. And he can still taste Montparnasse on his tongue and Jehan is looking so, so—

“You shouldn’t have said the word ‘pretty’, finchling,” Montparnasse drawls. “Now poor R will be lost in philosophic aesthetics for the r—”

Grantaire gets out of his chair, grabs Montparnasse by his collar and drags him into a kiss far rougher than before.

Montparnasse makes a short, startled noise before he eagerly opens his mouth and pulls Grantaire onto the couch with him. Grantaire digs his fingers into Montparnasse’s shoulders and he lets out a muffled groan in response.

Grantaire lets go rather abruptly and this time Montparnasse does pant. “Hah,” he breathes and his gratified surprise makes Grantaire smirk.

He looks at Jehan. Their cheeks are glowing and their eyes are _gleaming_. God it’s been long since he saw that look on their face.

Montparnasse makes a pleased, thoughtful noise and Grantaire looks back at him.

Montparnasse fixes his eyes on him. “Would you be up for this then?” he says, looking at him with unusual seriousness for a moment and from his tone it’s very clear that ‘this’ is something that he and Jehan have discussed before. Well, that’s…something.

“I thought you two were exclusive,” Grantaire says, keeping his tone as light as he can. He glances at Jehan, who is still so very pink in the face.

“Hm,” Montparnasse hums pleasantly. “We’re making an exception.”

“For tonight?” Grantaire asks. That would be fine actually, but he’d like to know.

“For you…” Jehan speaks up and Grantaire’s heart thumps twice in one beat.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he says and he can’t help the grin sliding onto his face.

“Told you, finchling,” Montparnasse grins, moving closer towards Grantaire. “You could have just asked him.”

Jehan colours even deeper and Grantaire wants nothing more than to kiss them and tell them they can have absolutely whatever they want. Montparnasse is still talking though, in that drawling, silky voice he uses solely because he knows it makes people feel things.

“Grantaire, what on earth am I supposed to do with them?” he drawls, draping an arm loosely across Grantaire’s shoulders and leaning his face close to his. “They won’t _take_ things, they won’t _ask_ for things…”

“I’ll ask,” Jehan says and their voice is so heavy with tension that Grantaire can feel it on his skin. They are sitting upright in one corner of the couch, looking at Grantaire and Montparnasse at the other end, eyes glittering darkly.

“Will you?” Montparnasse hums.

“If…” Jehan says, hesitation flickering on their face. “If R—”

“Anything,” Grantaire interrupts eagerly. “Anything you want, Jehan.”

Jehan’s eyes spark. “Then…would you kiss Grantaire?” It’s a question, not an order, and it’s barely audible, but it makes Grantaire feel oddly weak.

“Gladly,” Montparnasse purrs. “But where, finchling?”

“His neck,” Jehan murmurs, their eyes never leaving Grantaire’s face.

Montparnasse mutters something about wishes and commands and a moment later his lips are kissing down Grantaire’s neck, slender fingers pushing gently against his temple to make him slant his head. Grantaire nearly closes his eyes, but opens them again to look at Jehan. They are watching with rapt adoration.

“I did this last time, didn’t I?” Montparnasse purrs, lips ghosting over Grantaire’s skin. “Remind me, was it the first or the second?”

Grantaire swallows. “Both.” He’s still looking at Jehan and he knows they are listening as intently as they are watching.

“Mmm,” Montparnasse hums. “Only the second time I left marks—”

The touch of teeth to his skin makes hot shivers run down Grantaire’s spine and when Montparnasse sets to work marking his skin with his kiss, a sighing moan escapes his mouth.

Jehan’s eyes widen a little and Montparnasse chuckles, the sound low and muffled, but vibrating through Grantaire’s body in a maddening way. One of Montparnasse’s hands is buried in his curls and the other is playing with the hem of his shirt. Grantaire lets his eyes close. He doesn’t have to watch, he can _feel_ Jehan’s eyes on him.

“Parnasse…” Jehan’s voice comes through the haze, hesitant, but just a touch heavy. “Can you—”

Montparnasse sinks his teeth into Grantaire’s neck.

Grantaire gasps, eyes flying open and Montparnasse bites down harder, making Grantaire groan. Montparnasse’s hand is firm on the back of his neck now and Jehan— Jehan is crawling towards them across the couch, an enamoured sound spilling from their lips. Grantaire reaches out for them on impulse and Montparnasse pulls back to watch him kiss them. His fingers are still tugging on Grantaire’s curls though and it’s Jehan’s mouth and Montparnasse’s hands and Grantaire feels _dizzy_.

When he breaks out of the kiss, Jehan’s lips are plump and their eyes half-lidded.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Grantaire breathes, tilting his head helplessly into Montparnasse’s touch.

“I know,” Montparnasse growls and he leans towards Jehan with such an animal movement that Grantaire doesn’t even try to touch him, he just watches him move in front of him, mesmerized.

Jehan reaches out, but instead of letting Montparnasse kiss them, they grab him and pull him into Grantaire’s lap. “Greedy,” they scold and Montparnasse makes a noise at the back of his throat that Grantaire can feel deep in his own stomach.

Jehan’s eyes glitter as they dart from Montparnasse to Grantaire. “Hold Parnasse for me?” they say and they step off the couch to look at them from a little more distance. “Hold him in place.”

Grantaire swallows. It’s the complete clash between what they are asking for and how they are asking it. They sound so demure and soft, but their _eyes_. He spreads his legs and pulls Montparnasse to sit in between them. Montparnasse is oddly compliant, staring at Jehan intently, and Grantaire wishes he could see his expression. He pulls Montparnasse flush against his chest, arms wrapped around him, but if this is for Jehan to look at…

Grantaire grabs Montparnasse’s arms, pulling them behind his back, forcing him to arch his back a little, pushing his chest forward.

“Pretty,” Jehan sighs and Montparnasse makes a meek sound that Grantaire has _never_ heard him make before. He glances up at Jehan to see the hunger in their eyes. It’s mixed so liberally with affection that there’s a warm glow to it all. God they’re beautiful.

They’re still standing a few paces away, wrapped in a dress Grantaire wants to see them out of, with a shy sort of wild enjoyment visible in all their features. “Can you hold him with one hand?” they ask.

Grantaire grins at the eagerness in their voice and catches both of Montparnasse’s slender wrists in his right hand. “Like this?” he asks, dropping his voice.

“Yes,” Jehan swallows and they take a step forward.

Their gaze drops and Montparnasse almost squirms. Grantaire tightens his grip, just because he can, and Montparnasse holds still immediately.

Jehan bites their lip. “Pull his head back a little?”

Grantaire feels Montparnasse tense up in anticipation before he’s even caught hold of his hair and he gives a sharp enough pull to make him keen a little. Montparnasse is pressed right up against him, his caught hands level with his crotch and Grantaire can feel Montparnasse wants to move, tease back, fight a little. But he doesn’t.

Grantaire brings his face right beside Montparnasse’s, but resists the urge to turn his head and kiss him. He wants to know what Jehan wants and they’re suddenly very silent, blushing deeply, as if they weren’t the one that asked to be given exactly this.

Slowly they pad forward on stockinged feet and lean over them both, long hair tumbling down like a curtain of silk. They gently touch their fingertips to Montparnasse’s red lips and he kisses them. Jehan smiles and their eyes find Grantaire’s. They let Montparnasse kiss and lick at their fingers while they tilt their head just a little and lean towards Grantaire.

He nearly lets go of Montparnasse’s hair when their lips meet his, he tightens his grip in overcompensation and Montparnasse gasps, making Jehan smile against Grantaire’s mouth. They pull away and with both his hands claimed and Montparnasse’s weight against him there is nothing Grantaire can do about that. He watches as Jehan ghosts their lips against Montparnasse’s, refusing him a proper kiss. They drop down to press one on his exposed throat instead, making him whine slightly and sigh when they start to play with the buttons of his shirt.

“Don’t I get a kiss, finchling?” he asks, voice hitching slightly when Jehan kisses down past his collarbone as they unbutton his shirt.

“No,” Jehan murmurs against his skin. “You get something else.” They slide down until they are kneeling in front of the couch and Montparnasse moves his head to look at them.

“Ah-ah,” Grantaire tuts, pulling his head back.

“Fuck you,” Montparnasse groans and Jehan laughs softly.

Grantaire glances down and he actually feels cruel for denying Montparnasse the pleasure of seeing Jehan undress him. They strip off his jeans and boxers, their fingers caressing lovingly against his skin as they do so. They look up into Grantaire’s eyes and smile ever so slightly, holding his gaze as they push Montparnasse’s legs apart and move to kneel in between them. They press a kiss to his inner thigh, making Montparnasse take in a hissing breath and giving Grantaire the feeling he’s burning up from the inside out. He watches them slide a hair tie off their wrist to bind their hair up and his body _remembers_ this view. He doesn’t blame Montparnasse for the impatient stutter in his breath as Jehan leans closer, but he holds him firmly in place when they move their head down between his thighs. Montparnasse groans and tilts his hips involuntarily, but there’s nowhere for him to go. Jehan has his legs forced apart and Grantaire has his arms trapped and his head still pulled back. His restricted movements are wonderfully desperate and the sounds he’s making as Jehan lets their tongue torture him are intoxicating.

Montparnasse lets his head drop back against Grantaire’s shoulder, gasping with wet, parted lips and Grantaire loses his self-control.

It’s a sloppy kiss at an odd angle, but Montparnasse kisses back furiously and Grantaire can just hear an approving hum from Jehan. When he pulls back Montparnasse gasps for air and presses back harder against Grantaire, unmindful of the way his arms must nearly get crushed. The sudden friction makes Grantaire groan and Montparnasse braces his feet against the floor to push back harder. His feet slip again immediately and he groans weakly.

“ _Jehan_.”

Jehan hums and Grantaire feels Montparnasse shudder against him. He suddenly moves his head forward again and Grantaire lets him.

“No,” Montparnasse whines and he stifles a moan by biting down hard on his lip.

Grantaire lets out a breathy laugh and grabs a handful of Montparnasse’s hair again. “You want this?” he asks, letting the trembling in Montparnasse’s body twist hot thrills in his stomach.

“Yes,” Montparnasse gulps.

Jehan makes and adoring, muffled noise and Grantaire feels drunk.

“Harder,” Montparnasse orders, frustration and lust clashing in his voice.

“I thought we were asking nicely today,” Grantaire teases, pressing a kiss to the edge of Montparnasse’s jaw.

Montparnasse makes a sound that is nearly a growl and suddenly he tries to break free of the grip on his wrists in earnest. Grantaire grips him tighter and yanks his head back.

Montparnasse is all swallowed cries and breathy curses as he comes and Grantaire lets him struggle against him until he goes completely limp in a very familiar way. Grantaire chuckles and strokes his hair out of his face. Montparnasse groans weakly and Grantaire lets go of his wrists, looking down at Jehan who is just lifting up their head with as content and indulgent an expression as he has ever seen on their face.

“Oh you’re _loud_ ,” they tease, getting to their feet and leaning towards Montparnasse, who opens his eyes as soon as he hears them coming closer.

“I love you,” he pants and he grabs them to pull them into a kiss.

Jehan kisses him back, deeply and generously, before pulling away and fixing their gaze on Grantaire, who is still letting Montparnasse lean heavily against him. “Parnasse?” they say, eyes twinkling darkly.

“Yes,” Montparnasse breathes and his voice sounds exactly as willing and adoring as Grantaire feels.

“I think you should thank Grantaire…”

“ _Yes_ ,” Montparnasse repeats. There is less obedience and much more hungry agreement in him now and Grantaire is taken by surprise when Montparnasse turns around between his legs and kisses him roughly and suddenly.

Montparnasse struggles deliberately against him, making an effort to pin him against the couch and he only breaks away to unceremoniously yank Grantaire’s shirt up over his head. Jehan laughs delightedly in the background, but Grantaire doesn’t even have time to look at them. Montparnasse’s mouth is on his again and for a moment Grantaire struggles to breathe. Then Montparnasse is suddenly sliding to the floor and Grantaire feels the anticipation tugging low in his stomach.

Montparnasse’s movements are not sweet and teasing like Jehan’s. The way he trails his fingers down Grantaire’s body as he slides to his knees is possessive and hungry. Grantaire blows out a heavy breath, watching how Montparnasse impatiently works open his jeans and drags the layers of denim and cotton out of the way. His mouth is on him before Grantaire is properly prepared for it and he swears, nearly throwing his head back.

Jehan tuts, sounding delighted and Grantaire raises his head to see them standing a little to the side, taking in the sight before them with lust-darkened eyes. Grantaire follows their gaze, to where Montparnasse’s fingers are digging in his thighs, his mouth hot and wet around him, and he clenches his fists against the pillows of the couch.

“You can do that in Parnasse’s hair,” Jehan murmurs invitingly. “He likes that.”

Grantaire looks up at them, swallowing hard, and tries to fight the weak shivers Montparnasse is already coaxing from his body. He wants to last longer than this.

Slowly, in an attempt to keep at least a little control, he lifts one hand and rests it on Montparnasse’s head. Montparnasse hums eagerly and Grantaire twists his fingers into his hair where the locks are the longest.

Montparnasse takes him in deeper in response and Grantaire takes in a shuddering breath. Montparnasse’s back is arching underneath his loose-hanging shirt, the collar slipping further down the back of his neck.

“Oh Parnasse, you’re so pretty,” Jehan purrs, their voice coming through the haze of Grantaire’s mind like a flash of fire.

Montparnasse makes a soft, sighing sound and Grantaire bites down on his own lip.

“Isn’t he pretty, R?”

Grantaire lifts his eyes to Jehan’s face. “Yes,” he swallows.

Montparnasse does something with his tongue by way of an answer and Grantaire groans, dropping his head down to look at him through his lashes.

“Gorgeous…”

“You’re very pretty like this too,” Jehan says, their voice low, but coming nearer as they approach the couch again.

Grantaire looks at them, moving involuntarily towards them, and Montparnasse immediately spreads a commanding hand across his stomach, swallowing him down deeper.

“Fuck. Parnasse—” Grantaire groans and Jehan smiles, sinking down next to him on the couch.

Montparnasse makes a dark sound that lets Grantaire forget not to pull too hard on his hair and Montparnasse gasps around him. Grantaire swears weakly. He’s not going to last much—

“Look at me?” Jehan’s voice is _intoxicating_ , Grantaire can feel it inside of him.

He looks at them, fingers raking loosely through Montparnasse’s hair, and Jehan smiles, reaching out to cup his cheek.

Grantaire’s breath hitches and his eyes nearly close.

“Gorgeous,” Jehan echoes him, their thumb brushing past the corner of his mouth. Their eyes are fixed on him now and Grantaire can’t look away. He feels pinned in place between Jehan’s gaze and Montparnasse’s grip, which is just a touch too rough.

“A little slower, Parnasse,” Jehan says.

“Jehan—” Grantaire begs.

“Just a little,” they say, tipping his head back ever so slightly as they sit up on their knees.

Montparnasse complies and Grantaire feels the eager movements of his head slow down under the touch of his fingers.

“ _…fuck_ —” he rasps.

“Yes, like that,” Jehan praises Montparnasse. “Just like that.”

Montparnasse hums indulgently and Grantaire’s lips part in a wordless plea. He’s too close to stop himself now, but he’s not there yet and it’s _agony_.

Jehan’s fingers weave through his hair just as Montparnasse’s press down on his twitching hips and Grantaire’s breath locks in his chest. His eyes find Jehan’s, big and dark and adoring.

“Come for me?”

Grantaire lets out a desperate sound and Jehan presses their open mouth against his right at the moment he feels the crash of release hit him. They kiss him gleefully, swallowing the noises he makes while he can feel Montparnasse swallowing around him just as eagerly.

Jehan doesn’t pull away until Montparnasse does, leaving Grantaire gasping for air and with his body weak with dispersed heat.

“Fucking hell—” His voice is still broken and Montparnasse makes a smug sound from where he's leaning on Grantaire’s knee, breathing wetly.

Grantaire squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “I was wrong,” he groans. “I can’t handle the both of you at once.”

Jehan laughs warmly, the tense edge to their voice replaced with something light and giddy.

“That remains to be seen,” Montparnasse says smoothly and Grantaire looks up to see him rising gracefully to his feet. He looks Grantaire straight in the eyes while he wipes his mouth and then lets his gaze slide deliberately to Jehan. “Bedroom I think.”

Grantaire grins. _Right_. He gets up, tugging his boxers back up before sweeping Jehan firmly off their feet by scooping them up into his arms. They squeal and throw their arms around his neck to steady themselves, even though Grantaire can support them easily and they definitely know this by now.

Montparnasse leads the way. He looks like a dishevelled dream, naked from the waist down and with his unbuttoned shirt draped effortlessly elegant off his shoulders, and in Grantaire’s arms Jehan looks every bit as gorgeous.

“Are you coming or what?” Montparnasse demands, turning round impatiently in the doorway of Grantaire’s room. Good choice. He has the bigger bed.

“Don’t snap at Grantaire,” Jehan pouts letting their head hang back in a cascade of red hair as Grantaire carries them to the bedroom. “I thought _I_ was asking for things.”

“You _were_ ,” Montparnasse says, grinning wolfishly and Grantaire can feel the heat glowing on Jehan’s skin as they blush scarlet with want.

His eyes meet Montparnasse’s. “Go on then,” Grantaire prompts, striding over to the bed like Jehan weighs no more than a feather. He leans over them as soon as they slide out of his arms and onto the pillows. “I think we _both_ have some thanking to do…”

**Author's Note:**

> And _I_ would like to thank Deb, for being to blame for this, and Mardi, for being a very encouraging improptu beta  <3


End file.
